The Marriage Bargain

Introduction (#ue4366666-e4fb-5790-8279-12b19c0a280c)

Dear Reader (#u478e9dff-4a83-591a-85f2-5690c1a014e7)

Bible Verse (#uf3d55ce3-f487-5313-8287-70ae6f65387e)

Dedication (#u14c24041-bff3-5b56-bd11-48400b73b99a)

Chapter One (#u22f319e8-b4a3-56d9-9283-f37683a0032c)

Chapter Two (#uc990917f-a6ae-5a59-87e8-40467468676b)

Chapter Three (#uf21088c4-0173-514e-acd0-f6e2f3e41562)

Chapter Four (#u71fbde5a-77a4-5045-be38-67de9ce774c0)

Chapter Five (#ub9fa3e24-5596-5a83-8644-f4341c81da72)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#uc9161e85-c785-54eb-8e6a-ddb5d3aac218)

Cameron Quinn looked around the tiny town of Red Hill Springs. Big pots of pansies, twinkle lights in the trees lining the street... Apparently the basketball team at the local high school was doing well this year—the storefronts were full of team spirit. It had charm, he guessed, if you were a person who liked that down-home kind of stuff.

He wasn’t.

Cam shrugged into his sport coat, slid his sunglasses into the pocket and started across the street. If the Hilltop Café was still the center of gossip in this small town, he’d know soon enough where to find his mother. He nearly choked on the word. She’d lost the right to be called that a long time ago.

Bells jingled on the glass door as he pushed it open. Same brass bell, same clanking melody, the childhood memory surprising him with its intensity. Or maybe it was the aroma of fresh pancakes and coffee on the burner that had him instantly back in middle school, a broom in one hand, a doughnut clenched in the other.

He stepped up to the counter, nudged aside the drape of tinsel someone forgot to take down after Christmas and took a stool. In seconds a glass of water was sweating in front of him and Ms. Bertie was greeting him with a smile. “What can I get started for you, hon?”

She had to be a grandma by now, but she hadn’t changed a bit from the days he’d come in after school for a Coke before riding his bicycle home. On the best days, she’d asked him to sweep the sidewalk in front of the café and paid him in pastries. Her small kindness had meant something to a boy nobody wanted. He drew in a breath, the onslaught of memories harder than he’d expected.

“Just some information, if you have it. I’m looking for Vicky Porter. She lives here in town. Or at least she did.”

Bertie Sheehan slapped the order pad down and rounded the counter to drag him off his stool by the elbow. “Cameron Quinn? Is that you?” She wrapped him in a hug before pushing him back to study his face. “Oh, my goodness, it’s been so long. And it’s so good to see you.”

He grinned. “Thanks, Ms. Bertie. It’s good to see you, too. I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

“I never forget the good ones.” She nudged him gently back into place on the stool and climbed onto the one beside him. “Mickey, get me a burger and fries,” she called into the pass-through. “I did not expect you to come walking through my door today.”

“Me, neither, to be honest. But, Ms. Bertie, I’m really not hungry. I just need to find my... I need to find Vicky. It’s important. Do you know where she lives?”

Bertie nodded slowly. “She manages a trailer park about six miles out. Her place is the first one on the right as you go in. But, Cam—”

“Thanks, Ms. Bertie. I owe you one.” He slid a twenty onto the counter.

She gripped his wrist. “Cameron, listen to me. Your mom’s not doing so well since she broke up with Jerry. And your sister’s death... Well, it hit all of us hard.”

He didn’t want to hear about how bad things were for his mom. He wasn’t here for her. “I’m not—I don’t—Ms. Bertie, where are Glory’s girls?”

“Oh, so that’s what finally brought you home.” She rocked back on her stool with a knowing, somewhat relieved smile. “You don’t have to worry. They’re not with Vicky. They live with Jules.”

The blank look on his face must’ve given him away because she laughed and pointed to an old photo on the wall of herself with her kids. “Jules—Juliet—my youngest. She and Glory were inseparable from the moment they met in nursery school. Those two were more like sisters than friends.”

A vague memory surfaced of two little girls giggling in one of the back booths here at the Hilltop. “I need to see them.”

“Jules lives at the old Parker place now, just past the Springs church.”

“Thank you.” The knot that had been building in his chest since he first heard about the car accident that killed his sister and her husband eased, just a little, knowing the girls were safe. He leaned forward and kissed Bertie on the cheek. “I mean it—thank you.”

The cook came out of the kitchen door with a white container. “Figured you might need this to-go.”

“Take it, Cameron,” Bertie ordered, in her just-try-to-argue tone. “You look a little skinny.”

Cam took the box. For years, he’d imagined that there was no one in the world who cared whether he lived or died, but he was wrong. Here was one.